


Heal

by theholyjuggernaut



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Deeper look into Dean's guilty-ass mind, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven, Gen, Guilty Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholyjuggernaut/pseuds/theholyjuggernaut
Summary: At Dean's side, unmistakably there after what felt like eons of silence, Cas is healing him; his eyebrows furrowed in a way that is so distinctly familiar that it makes the hunter homesick. And he knows he’s the last jackass on Earth who deserves any of Cas’s grace.-What was going through Dean's head when Cas healed him in s15e08?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	Heal

“Here,” Castiel says softly, stepping closer to Dean, “let me.” 

Confusion seeps above the persistent, deep-rooted guilt in Dean’s mind;  _ Here we go again,  _ he thinks miserably, angrily, and can’t tell whether it’s directed at himself or the angel beside him. Sam catches his eye, a bit on edge, and Eileen stands across the room, watchful of their strained interaction. Dean wonders if they know. If they feel the pressure building whenever he and Cas are within arms length of each other. 

Dean feels the warmth of Castiel’s body as he lifts his hand up. They don’t touch. After all, the unspeakable chasm widens between them with almost every interaction, every strained conversation. It is foreign now, their closeness in this moment. The rawness of the wound aches with every movement, and it has nothing to do with his bleeding hand. 

There’s a bruise on his heart that just won’t go away, and Dean doesn’t know how to fix  _ this _ , how to brush aside the wreckage and repair. He’s been doing it for years with the Impala, but Cas has never been as simple to be fixed with the jerk of a wrench. Really, the angel has always been a wild card of sorts, so  _ no _ , Dean can’t just fix this. 

And it’s not only the silent turmoil that has him grabbing a beer every time they’re together, it’s the moments when they do talk, as few as there may be now. The strained, hollow silences that stew when neither of them want to be the first to speak; the sharp intakes of breath, the sighs, the fact that Dean hasn’t looked at Cas–really  _ looked _ at him–since their falling out. 

_ Now you can barely look at me _ , Castiel ruefully whispers in his ear. 

It is a statement, never a question with him. The angel, his friend– _ I royally screwed that one up, didn’t I? _ –always knows. And so does Dean. A fight he will never win is looking Castiel in his eyes, because all Dean sees when he looks at the angel is pain. A small part of himself wishes he was gone, wishes they never met in the first place. The first place being  _ hell _ . 

Dean thought about Cas a lot after he left. In fact, he couldn’t  _ stop _ thinking about him so much it made him want to rip his hair out. So beer, cereal, and binging  _ Scooby-Doo _ past midnight became his official, turbulent way of dealing. Right now, Dean has to face everything he said to the angel. Because at his side, unmistakably  _ there _ after what felt like eons of silence, Cas is healing him; his eyebrows furrowed in a way that is so distinctly familiar that it makes the hunter homesick. And he knows he’s the last jackass on Earth who deserves any of Cas’s grace. 

A golden light glows from underneath the angel’s hand, hovering above Dean’s bleeding palm. Their skin almost brushes as Castiel spreads his fingers. He winces, face tight in concentration, and the light flickers.  _ My powers are failing, _ Dean remembers, and it feels like being shot in the heart. 

Castiel exhales quietly, stepping back, and Dean feels his eyes on him. It’s just for a moment– _ that’s how it is now– _ a blink of time that stretches far too long, and never long enough. 

Dean shuffles slightly, stretches his hand, and roughly says, “Thanks.” 

_ I’m sorry,  _ is what he really wants to say, but it gets caught in his throat. 

Dean’s eyes flicker up to Castiel, and he looks back down just as quickly. Somehow, his voice doesn’t reflect how destroyed he feels, and he wryly thanks God for that. It’s not like he cares, anyway. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've only recently gotten into Supernatural (convenient, right? Since it's the last season...) and I've fallen in love with Dean and Castiel's extremely complex relationship. It makes for some very self-indulgent, interesting writing. It's not a simple "people meet, they get together, end of story." There's a lot of complicated emotions to deal with, and I find it very fun to work with them. Also, hurt/comfort is kind of my thing. My ideal weekend is chillin' alone in bed reading fanfiction.  
> Anyway, hope you all like this! Wrote most of it at school while my brain was being fried from finals preparation. God, the American education system sucks ass sometimes.  
> Till next time, folks. I'm gonna lose my mind waiting for episode nine.


End file.
